Mending scars
by myLyricsaremylife
Summary: Stiles can't stand it when people get hurt because of her. Always-a-girl!Stiles/Derek. TRIGGER WARNING: DO NOT READ IF AT RISK OF SELF-HARM.


Stiles came home, thoughts in a blur. She threw her bag on the floor, and stormed up to her room. She'd failed again, failed at protecting the others. Tonight it was Scott. Whatever it was that night was coming straight at her. She didn't have time to move and avoid it. But Scott came, and pushed her out of the way. She didn't even get a scratch. But Scott did. Too many that couldn't heal fast enough. Too many for Stiles not to go unpunished. So when she came home that night, Stiles did what she did best; she made herself pay.

She'd torn open her desk drawer and found her pencil sharpener, taking it in her hands and staring at it, thinking of all the damage a measly little blade could do. She'd seen that damage firsthand. It wasn't the first time Stiles had done this. At first, it was a way to cope with her mother's death. But now, it was a way to punish herself for her wrongs, for members of the pack getting hurt in her place. She had to have the scars she deserved. She had to feel the pain they felt.

She unscrewed the blade from the sharpener, locked her door, stripped down to her undergarments and sat down at the chair of her desk. She looked at the blade, weighing it in her hand.

And then it started. She felt the cool metal of the blade press into the skin of her arm, and winced slightly when she slid it across.  
The first cuts were always the smallest, but once Stiles got used to the sting, she wouldn't hesitate cutting deeper, drawing more blood. Once she was satisfied with the cuts on her arms and the number of blood stained paper tissues she'd used, Stiles put on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, threw out the tissues, and went down to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of milk. When she came back, she yelped.

"Gah! Derek, what the fuck are you doing in my house? It's sorta late for beating my ass up, don't you think?" Stiles joked, laughing anxiously.

Derek looked up, expressionless.  
"I just wanted to let you know Scott is okay. We got him to Deaton on time, he'll be fine." He spoke slowly watching a nervous Stiles tug at her sleeve. Something wasn't right here.

"Well thanks for updating me on the sitch Derek, but I have to go to bed." said Stiles, strain to her voice. "The window is right there, now go do your whole badass mysterious werewolf things elsewhere."

Derek smelled the air, it smelled distinctly of blood. Stiles's blood.

"Stiles, why does your room smell like blood?" Derek questioned, his eyes landing on her arms.

"Blood?" Stiles laughed nervously."You see Derek, I'm a girl, and girls get this monthly thing, you know? It's fine, it's nothing." Her heart was racing, and Derek knew it to be a lie. He narrowed his eyes.

"Lie. Stiles, Why does your room smell like blood?" He pressed, taking a step near the girl.

Stiles was full on panicking now.  
What if he found out? What would he say? Would he tell? What would the pack say?

Stiles smiled bleakly, a weak attempt to get sour wolf off her back.  
"Derek, it's nothi-"

"Bullshit."

Derek growled, grabbing her arm and pushing up the sleeve to reveal her scars. Stiles tried to snatch her arm back and cover it, but Derek held it tight.

"Fuck. Why Stlies? Fuck, why?"

Stiles gave a shaky breath. He had already seen them, so why bother trying to cover it up? It didn't matter now.

"I deserve it. Everyone keeps taking hits for me, and I can't take it any more! I'm the expendable one, I'm the human!" She was full on sobbing now,  
tears falling freely."Last week it was Isaac, and the night before that, it was you! Tonight it was Scott, and he's the closest thing I have to a brother, and I can't lose that. The pack keeps putting themselves on the line for me, and I hate it."

Derek stayed still for a moment, and then did the most un-Derek-like thing.  
He pulled Stiles in an embrace, muffling the heart wrenching sobs she emitted. He didn't know what to do with the broken girl in his arms, he just knew he wanted to mend her scars. He couldn't let her hurt like this again. So later that night, Derek was still there, holding a sobbing Stiles in his arms, muttering comforting words and stroking her hair.

Derek checked on her more after that. Stiles had gotten better, but not quite. There were still nights where she hurt herself, or cried herself to sleep, but everytime Stiles broke down, Derek was there to build her back up.


End file.
